Bad Self Portraits
by Auchen
Summary: Due to what Liz perceives as Red's lack of knowledge when it comes to modern technological terms, she decides to introduce him to the art of the "selfie".


**A/N** : I was talking to my friend Savvy on skype a few nights ago about this premise, and she encouraged me to write this, so you have both of us to blame for this fic.

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"Lizzie, is this really _entirely_ necessary?" he gave narrow, withering glance toward the slick, black phone that she held in her hand, its screen dotted with the white pattern of her fingerprints.

"Yes, it is. You're the one that's always telling me to try something new, like some Italian restaurant where the price of every menu item combined probably costs as much as a small island. This is no different than that." Lizzie did not withdraw the phone, in fact, she extended it further towards him and waggled it.

This wasn't about her trying to get a bit of vengeance for all the times he'd encouraged-or dragged her into-new cultural experiences. It was entirely about the fact that several days ago when they were talking about an image taken from a suspect's Instagram account he'd erroneously called the website "Instant Gram". The moment the incorrect name had left his lips, her nostrils had flared and she'd bit down on her lip, completely unable to conceal her laughter.

"Red, do you need me to help show you how to open up a browser window and how move the cursor?" She'd said, laughter still trying to bubble up from her.

She'd made sure to use his error as fodder for the next few days, and her trying to rope him into taking photos of himself on her phone was an extension of that.

"This is completely different. This is not a cultural experience in any way. And besides, the menu at Coassolo's couldn't buy an island, though it could perhaps purchase a mansion in the foothills of-"

He was interrupted when a small light flashed on the back of her phone as she held it up, thumb pressed against the bottom of the phone, eyes squinting and mouth pursed in concentration. She turned it around to show him a somewhat blurry picture of him with his eyes closed, mouth half open, hands a smudge as he wildly gestured.

"It really captures your essence." Lizzie grinned at him. It was that grin that did him in.

"Fine. I'll take a few..." Red sighed, somewhat annoyed at the childish term, "selfies with you. Of course, I presume that you won't be keeping incriminating photographs of yourself with a criminal mastermind on your cell phone."

She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course I'm going to keep pictures of me with FBI's fourth most wanted man on my phone. No, this is about the principle of the thing. And if you don't stop complaining and stalling, I'm going to make a post on Facebook saying, 'My friend is an old curmudgeon that's afraid of my phone.' "

He inhaled sharply at the word "friend". It was a rare, precious thing indeed when she clearly stated that she felt any sort of affection for him.

He crossed his arms and took a step towards her. "And if you _do_ make that post, I know a dozen or so talented hackers that could remove it within less than a minute of you posting it. And I know several dozen more less talented hackers that could remove it within three minutes of your posting."

"I'm pretty sure I could get Aram to do something to prevent that. But anyway, let's get this over with." With that, she took several long strides over to him, hair swaying. In a moment, she had pressed her shoulder against his, top of her head tilted toward him as she held out her phone and tapped against the screen. His breath halted in his chest as he took in her relaxed, thoughtful expression and the way her mouth curved up at the edges. When her eyes began to shift toward him, he glanced a way and slowly exhaled.

"Ah! Here we go. You have longer arms, so you should take the picture. Just press the square on the screen there." She shifted the phone into his palm, the tips of her fingers brushing his skin.

"This square right here? I'm afraid you might have to explain it again, since I am so _very_ ancient, Lizzie." He furrowed his brow and frowned, shoulders slumping as if he was indeed a confused old man.

She narrowed her eyes, and when she exhaled an annoyed snort, he felt it against his cheek. "Just take the photo, Reddington."

"Of course, Agent Keen." As he extended his left arm she pressed into his side, leaning her head so that her hair brushed against his neck. Red swallowed and pressed a finger into the square.

Lizzie snatched the phone away from him the minute the light had flashed. She glared down at the photo and immediately dipped it so that he could see the pink half-circle of his thumb blotting out their heads, only leaving a full view of her white top pressed up against his black vest.

"Let's take a couple more. You've gotta take a lot of pictures to get one good one." She handed the phone back to him.

He chuckled. "And do you often use your spare time to take 'selfies'?"

"No, I took a photography elective for a semester in high school." She shrugged at the little tid-bit of her life that she'd handed to him, but it made him blink. He already knew a good amount of her background, but those had just been words on a page, a series of facts about a person he'd rarely ever laid eyes on. When she willingly shared shards of herself with him, he gained clearer view of the complicated, soft and rough enigma that was Elizabeth Keen.

So he did as she asked, because for all his stalling and complaining over taking photos with her phone, he never would have refused the chance to spend time with her when she offered it, even in the most ridiculous and simple of circumstances.

He took the photos over the course of what must have been three or four minutes, finger tapping down on the button repeatedly, recording stuttering frames of that single moment in their existence. And though it only lasted several minutes, it seemed to go on forever-

A series of touches, her arm draped over his shoulders, her hand pressed against his lower back as her fingers trailed over the pucker in the fabric of his vest, the very edge of her head leaning against his left shoulder as she made a ridiculous, pinched face into the camera.

When he had finished taking the photos, it felt like waking up from a dream that he wanted to hold on to with thick, clumsy, fingers drunk with sleep. She removed the phone from his grasp and began to scroll through the images that he had taken. As she went through each picture, it was like watching a stop-motion film of Lizzie gradually relaxing. The line of her shoulders had slowly relaxed into a curve, and with each image, she had leaned in closer to him, and her touches had become more frequent by the last few images.

"Mmm, I think I like this is one of my favorites." She paused on a photo she had insisted that they take. She had told him to make his best "smug mug-shot" face while she stared him down like she was about to arrest him. In truth, he found it amusing, but he didn't think it was his favorite.

She slid her thumb so that it jumped to the next photo.

 _Oh._

 _That_ one was his favorite.

He didn't remember what he'd said, but evidently she'd found it hilarious, for her nose and eyes were scrunched up, her mouth curling into a wide smile as she pressed the edge of her cheek against his chest. He was looking down at her, the edge of his mouth turned up as his eyes fondly lingered on her face while she wasn't looking, one hand resting against her shoulder.

It was a loose, chaotic moment of both of them abandoning their dozens of walls while they thought that the other wasn't looking. If someone described the moment on paper to him it would've looked like this:

An FBI agent who had vowed to hunt down extralegal offenders pressing her cheek into the chest of a criminal who looked at her like she was the most priceless thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

If he'd been reading the description as an objective viewer, he might've thought it was a nonsensical joke. It was like watching a deer cavort with an adoring wolf, but there they were: Red and Lizzie. They defied all natural explanation, but somehow that made whatever it was they had all the more precious.

"I like that one quite well," he said, flicking an index finger at the image he had been deeply ruminating over. He had tried to keep his tone steady and mask the emotions inside, but he wasn't quite sure how successful that effort had been.

"Yeah," she said, voice a bit quiet. "I like it too. It's too bad I'm gonna have to delete it." She frowned.

"Well, you can delete them, but before you do that you can send them to me. If you really want to." He tried to seem casual about it, but he desperately wanted her to agree. He wanted all of them. Every piece of their time together was infinitely important.

She arched an eyebrow. "You sure you don't just want them so you can blackmail me?"

"Oh, Lizzie, have a little faith in my integrity." He bowed his head and pressed a hand to his chest as if he had been wounded by her doubt.

"Integrity, huh?" She nodded and flexed her jaw to the side. "Okay, I'll let you keep them but," she pressed a finger into his chest, "you better keep your word."

He lifted her hand away from where she touched him and held it for a moment as he stared down at the ridges of her knuckles before dropping it. "Of course I will."

She rubbed a thumb over where he had touched her and then shoved her hand into her pants pocket. "Good. And...Red?" Her eyes had become pinched as if she was suddenly uncertain about what she wanted to say.

"Yes?" he asked, voice gruff.

"I-" she pressed her lips together. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. We still need to fully analyze that photo from 'Instant Gram.' " This time, he pronounced the word with surety, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Be careful or I'll make you take more selfies with me. I might even make you put filters over them this time."

"I suppose I had better stay on my guard, then." But he wouldn't. If enduring fiddling with photo filters meant spending more time with her, then it was entirely worth it.


End file.
